Against the World
by sleepbetween
Summary: Hayden Bellamy is young, clever, brash, and graduating from the Veilstone Imperial College of Training. He wants to be the best, but will have to overcome the world to get there. Bitter rivals, remorseless criminals, and difficult partners are the least of his worries when a malevolent darkrai begins haunting his dreams.


On the thirty-first of September at six thirty-seven in the morning, I woke up, rolled over, and went back to sleep.

Almost one hour later, I actually got up. It'd been the final of the Lily of the Valley conference last night, and I'd been up way past midnight at the Ward family's house. 'Morning,' I told Landon, who was still asleep, on the bed next to where I'd just been sleeping. That was odd, I thought. We haven't slept in one bed together since we were, like, nine. Then, I realised that it wasn't Landon at all. Landon didn't have long black hair, or breasts.

 _Oh, right._ It was Victoria. 'Morning,' she murmured back to me, apparently not as asleep as I'd thought. She peered at me blearily. 'You aren't Matthias.' _Oh, fuck._ I nodded in conformation. Victoria groaned, and her eyes fluttered shut. 'What time is it? It's graduation, today.'

 _Oh, fuck!_

* * *

'Morning,' I told the real Landon, who was still asleep, on the floor right next to the kitchen bench. Landon really was asleep this time, though, and didn't respond. I kicked him in the ribs. 'Oi,' I said. 'Wake up, it's graduation.' No response. 'We're getting our starters.' Landon still slept. I slapped him on the cheek, which finally elicited a response: a groan in protest.

'Fuck off,' Landon said sleepily. 'I'm tryn'a sleep.'

'Well, stop. It's like, past eight, so graduation is in less than an hour.' Finally, Landon started stirring, mumbling obscenities. 'Oh, and also, I accidentally fucked your brother's girlfriend last night. And this morning. Again.'

Landon drowsily looked me in the eye. 'I swear I've told you to stop doing that.'

* * *

The Ward family consisted of a mother, a father, and two twin sons. Said Mother and Father both work in the Tournament business, so naturally they were both out of town for a month and a half working at the Lily of the Valley Conference on the League Island. Their twin sons had to be left behind, because the day after the conclusion of the Conference they would be graduating from the Veilstone Imperial College of Training (or, the VICT). Under the promise of good behavior, the Ward brothers had the house to themselves for the week following their final day of boarding at the College until Ceremony Day, which the Mother and Father would fly back to Veilstone as soon as possible for. Unfortunately, Matthias and Landon Ward were as trust-worthy as they were identical – not very. I'd been practically living here for the week, constantly hanging around with Landon, who was my best friend, and awkwardly interacting with/avoiding Matthias, who often had his long-term girlfriend Victoria Delaney around to occupy his time. Unfortunately, I'd been _occupying_ Victoria on occasion, as well.

Last night, for the Conference final, Landon had thrown a party, and invited most of our graduating class to it, even the ones we didn't like. 'Hey,' he'd said, 'odds are like half of them will be dead in a year or two, anyway.' I'd agreed, but didn't point out that if that were true, statistically half of _us_ would die too. Thus, considering what time graduation began tomorrow (nine in the morning, for fuck's sake) the party got slightly out of control. Most of us were relatively calm through the match, but after Lucas sent out his infernape when Barry sent out his snorlax, moods started to escalate towards hyper. When infernape beat snorlax, and _then_ defeated Barry's last pokemon, torterra to win the Conference, things went berserk (after all, snorlax and torterra were Barry's aces and _one_ pokemon beat them both? _And_ Lucas still had his absol in hand? Of course things got a bit out of control!). Long story short, Matthias passed out in his room at eleven, Victoria and I both got very drunk and ended up in bed together, and somehow (no idea) Landon passed out spooning the kitchen bench. Only one person really kept their shit together – at least that I was friends with – and that was Clara.

Clara, as it happened, was currently trying to make Landon and I look somewhat presentable. 'Honestly, Hayden,' she told me while fussing over my hair, 'you really need to stop sleeping with Victoria. It's wrong.' Also, she was lecturing me about ethics.

'I know,' I said to her, honestly. I really, truly, did. 'I really never mean it to happen. It only does when we're drunk.'

She huffed. 'Well, stop getting drunk then! You're sixteen, anyway, you're underage.' She apparently deemed my hair acceptable, and started trying to comb Landon's light brown hair back. 'This is going to be absolutely the last time. Okay? You have to promise.'

She looked at me, still combing Landon's hair, blue eyes imploring. 'Alright,' I said. 'I promise.' She watched me for another moment, and then her lips broke into a smile, flashing white teeth.

'Great! Now, come on, put your shoes on and I'll grab your blazers and we'll do your ties later.'

We left the house in a hurry, only running ten minutes late. Matthias and Victoria were still getting ready – Victoria was notoriously slow with her makeup – and most everyone else who'd been at the party had wandered back home sometime during the night. The Ward family house (if that's the best word to call that behemoth) was situated on quite the other side of Veilstone as the College was, only a short walk from the meteorite craters. Landon, Clara, and I hurried toward the Veilstone Department Store, where taxis tended to congregate. Luck was watching out for us, apparently, as an empty taxi was cruising by. Landon went to flag it down. Clara and I waited behind the sidewalk. I looked sideways at her; she was nervous, I saw.

'Hey,' I said, and she looked up at me. 'What's up?' She exhaled, brushed a stray strand of hair out of her eyes, and returned her gaze to the sidewalk.

'It's just… I don't know. I'm nervous. I don't know what sort of starter I'll get, or what I'm going to do after, and, like, it's going to be a whole new chapter of my life and I'm not even _that_ _good_ at battling like you or Matthias and it'll be dangerous, you know? People die a lot in their first few training years.' She looked back at me, eyes shining slightly.

Ah, alright. I'd guessed this. I was prepared.

'Yeah, I know. I know how you feel. But it's definitely not going to be us who die. We're all good. And whatever starter you get, it'll be the perfect one for you. That's what this things all about; look at my sister and her Togekiss, right? They're doing really well.'

She nodded uncertainly. 'Yeah, I guess,' she said 'but what—'

'And we'll all be travelling together,' I said confidently. She glanced up in surprise. 'Me and Landon. And you, if you want too.'

She grinned. 'Of course!'

The taxi pulled up, and Landon pulled open the front door and greeted the driver. Clara and I slid in the back, and we were on our way. We ended up arriving at the familiar wrought iron gates of the Imperial Veilstone College for Training.

The cobblestone path that lead from the gates to the large oak doors of the Main Building of the College was flanked by twin statues of pokemon opposite one another. Lucario, bronzong, torterra, infernape, empoleon, lucario again. The dorm buildings, where Landon and I had shared a room for five long years, were off divergent paths between the infernape and empoleon statues, to the left and right. We trotted up the cobblestone to the oak doors, which were opened for us by a pair of men flanking each side, rigidly straight-backed and dressed in eloquent stiff red uniforms. Inside, the artfully tiled lobby was filled with all manner of parents, dressed in Jubilife suits to Solaceon, uh, fashion, and students in the customary navy blue blazer and red tie (with hair that denoted various state of sobriety from the night before). Looking at some of the messes, I fervently hoped that Clara had done an alright job on mine. She'd done our ties in the cab, so we were all set to graduate. Twenty minutes of waiting for late arrivals later, Matthias and Victoria conspicuously slipped in, followed by Mr and Mrs Ward five minutes later, dressed in fine but slightly crumpled suits.

Soon, they herded the parents toward the auditorium, and us graduates filed into an adjacent hall. In it, one of the Professors, Flournoy, was speaking to us while we donned long burgundy robes. Landon leaned over to me.

'Felt like today would never come, didn't it?' I smiled and nodded. 'Graduation. The last day of Bellamy and Ward Against the World Part One, and the first day of Bellamy and Ward Against the World Part Two! Leggo!'

I laughed at him. 'Well, you better make that Bellamy, Ward, and Williams because Clara's coming with us when we leave.' He gaped at me.

'What about two boys against the wilderness? What about our legendary duo? We can't be a legendary trio, with two boys and a girl against the wilderness! That just doesn't have the same ring to it—'

'It'll be fine. Besides, she's probably a better cook than either of us.'

He considered this seriously. 'That's a very good point, actually. You're useless in the kitchen.'

'Sure, but you're a liability.' Landon made to respond again, but we were interrupted. Clara had returned from talking with a professor (Garrett? I wasn't looking.)

'What's this?'

'Hayden can't cook,' said Landon.

I nodded seriously. 'Unfortunately, Landon's even worse.'

Clara laughed at us. 'I'm hopeless, too. It's okay; we can suffer together!' Landon groaned, and hung his head.

* * *

We were in the auditorium, seated in cushy red seats with little legroom, waiting impatiently to receive our starter pokemon. The auditorium, large as it was, was humming with excited noise, as the parents behind us waited in anticipation, discussing how incredible their kid was bound to be, while I stared listlessly at the artistic painted glass, the many windows high on the auditorium walls; gardevoir and gallade; a faceless trainer upon a rapidash (flames or no, apparently); a magnificent luxray summoning a thunderstorm; milotic swimming at the bottom of a crystal lake. The grandest of all, however, was a circular window directly above the stage. It depicted the Lunar Duo: a pure, beautiful, cresselia glimmering bright like a pool of stars, poised against a pitch-black darkrai, who seemed to suck light away into its devouring murk. The two were set against the moon and a starry night sky. As usual when at these assemblies, I found myself drawn into the glass, and the words of whoever started the speech began to fade away – until an elbow found its way to my rib cage. 'Pay attention,' Clara hissed. Right. Sorry. Suddenly, there was a round of applause, and I hastily joined in, bringing my gaze to the podium underneath the stained glass window – a burly man with hair white as snow and a healthy beard to match had taken the podium. Sinnoh's famous Professor Rowan surveyed the room impressively, as the auditorium fell quiet and waited for him to speak.

'Thank you, thank you,' he began, 'Thank you for your kind applause, my esteemed friends. And thank you to the faculty here at the Veilstone Imperial College for Training for inviting me here to speak today, as an honoured guest; my old friends Professors John Flournoy and Marie Goff, and of course the brilliant Carson Garrett: thank you most sincerely.' He paused for a moment, and raised his arms, holding them out, welcoming. 'But most of all… thank you to _you!_ The students! Your admirable minds and love of pokemon…' My gaze left the Professor I tuned him out, and returned itself to the stained glass above, casting light below the cresselia, shadow below the darkrai.

 _Amazing to think people have met pokemon like that…_ I looked at the darkrai, and repressed a shudder. _Amazng to think people survived a pokemon like that._ I didn't know all that much about darkrai outside of rumours and children's songs, but that was more than enough for me.

Once again, Clara's elbow found my rib cage and brought my attention back to the Professor. He wasn't talking, and for the briefest moment, the auditorium was silent, but then applause broke out and a student got to his feet. Corey Andrews, I remembered. He hastened up to the stage, grinning so widely it looked as if his face might split. He shook hands with Professor Rowan, and then a teacher who I'd never had – must've been his homeroom teacher. Then, the teacher led him over to an enormous matte black crate, and cracked the lid of it opened. A ripple of murmurs went through the room – sitting innocently amongst black felt were eighty-five pokeballs, polished and gleaming red on top. The teacher plucked a pokeball from the box, the very first from the top left, and handed it to Corey, shaking his hand again. He muttered something, and Corey nodded. A deep breath, a long exhalation with closed eyes, and he released the pokemon inside the ball. In came free in a small shock of bright white light. Small, weird greenish gray, bipedal – it was a machop. Corey grinned, and knelt down to it, while the audience broke into applause.

Next to me, Landon put his hands in his face. 'This is going to take forever,' he whispered. On my other side, Clara's face looked as if she was feeling much the same thing.

Fortunately, my last name wasn't far away, so after Sarah Appleseed got a helioptile and Samuel Baynes a poliwag, Professor Rowan cleared his throat and announced: 'Bellamy, Hayden!'

I didn't really register the audience's cheers as I went up to the stage (though, I did notice Landon whoop loudly, and Clara's piercing cheers); my eyes were completely glued to the box, the fourth pokeball from the left in the top row. _Mine_. I pulled my gaze away from the little red ball, and met Professor Rowan's eyes as I neared him. He stuck out his hand, and I shook it with my own. 'Well done, my boy,' he said, clapping me on the shoulder, smile visible through his snowy white beard. 'It's time to begin your journey.' The smile didn't really reach his eyes. _Apprehension_. He turned his shoulders, and gestured behind him. I stepped past, and was greeted by—not my homeroom teacher. It was Professor Garrett was smiling widely at me with unusually bright red lips which stuck out on his pallid face, black hair slicked back, shining in the light of auditorium.

'Uh, where's Professor Berlitz?'

'He couldn't be here today,' Professor Garrett said easily, voice smooth and thick, like pudding. 'I offered to stand in.' Uh, okay. Biting my tongue, I just nodded. As far as I knew, this Garrett bloke didn't even teach classes—in fact, nobody really knew what he did. Still, I shook his hand, and he escorted me toward the crate. I swallowed down the nerves, with only slight success. _Here we go._

'Your starter awaits, young man.' I glanced back at Professor Garrett, briefly. He was still smiling, crimson lips shut tight. I looked back at the pokeballs. The top half of the ball was scarlet (but not as shocking as Garrett's lips), the bottom half was off white, separated by a charcoal strip—where the ball opens. Top row, fourth from the left. That was mine. A small label underneath, stuck atop the black felt, read _H. Bellamy._ I picked it up, rolled it in my hands for a moment, and clicked the little button which triggered the release with my right thumb. A flash of light. It came out—small, midnight blue, white claws long and sharp, red feather atop its head. A sneasel, looking around with wide, red eyes.

'Hi,' I said to the sneasel. It scampered.

Luckily, I'd somewhat expected that, and had snapped it back up into the pokeball quick. Orientating the sneasel would have to happen later. My sneasel wasn't the only one to attempt a runner, though—among others, a ponyta had very nearly managed it, and an abra had teleported away the moment its new trainer set eyes on it.

My new sneasel in its ball, clasped firmly in my hand, as I sat on a cushy chair on the stage. The chairs were lined up neatly across the back in two rows, of forty-three and forty-two. There was a small gap behind the podium, separating the seats into two sections. Slowly more and more students came to sit in the seats, sometimes with a friendly partner pokemon in their lap. Victoria was sat four seats to my left, happily hugging an elekid to her chest. It was buzzing excitedly, and Victoria's hair was slightly raised with static. I frowned. Elekid was a pretty prestigious starter—they eventually evolved into an electivire, an electric powerhouse, and one of the most powerful pokemon out there, short of the pseudo-legendaries. Sneasel only evolved once: they became weavile, who were extremely nimble, extremely vicious, and notoriously difficult to control.

I grinned. Weavile were rare, and often sought after by trainers as a unique dark and ice type. Weavile were nearly impossible to find in the wild, and sneasel were difficult to train for many reasons—for one, they were extremely mischievous, disobedient, and disrespectful, even for dark-types. Mature sneasels tended to be outright resentful of their trainers, refusing to respect or be loyal to them. They had to be caught young, or even raised from an egg, and sneasels were extremely protective of their young. A young sneasel would respect it's trainer as caregiver, probably, and starter pokemon tended to be fairly newly hatched when they were given to a trainer. If not, I liked a challenge, and a sneasel really did suit me well anyway; I'd excelled in dark-type studies, and I was from Snowpoint City (also I never really put much stock into rules and obedience). That was one of the things considered in selecting starters by the College. They also tended not to hand out ghost types, because of their malicious tendencies, or dragon types, because of their difficulty to train and their danger. Dark types were rare starters, as they were a)rare, and b)dangerous to train second only to dragons (thus, the hydreigon line were considered the most difficult and dangerous pokemon to train).

I turned the pokeball in my palm again, pondering. What if I sent it out now? If it fled again, I could just return it, and I felt kinda lonely because most people sitting near me hand theirs out. Hesitantly, I lifted the ball and pointed it at my lap. I released sneasel, and it came out onto my lap, eyes darting around everywhere, before finally locking onto mine, red against blue. It was a he, I noticed. 'Hi,' I told him quietly. There was a round of applause; another student had been called. 'I'm Hayden, and I'm your trainer, now. We're partners.' Sneasel was still looking at me, but I couldn't decipher what he was looking at me _with_. Amazement? Skepticism? Nervousness? I'd seen a few sneasel before, being from Snowpoint, but I'd never been this close with one. He was fascinating. His eyes studied, me, but his ears were swivelling. Then, he abruptly turned, claws digging into my thighs. A pokemon had been released, I realised. A heracross ( _heracross!_ ) was looking around confused, and a ripple of appreciation went through the room. My first thought was an almost angry _who the fuck got a heracross_ , but it was quickly shunted aside by the— _my—_ sneasel scampering up my torso to my shoulder, hissing angrily at the heracross. _Oh, right._ Dark/ice versus bug/fighting wasn't going to work out in our favour. Not yet, at least.

'It's alright,' I told Sneasel soothingly. He didn't seem like he was listening. Clara caught my eye, beaming at me and giggling with joy. I grinned back. My sneasel was still growling lowly in his throat, but seemed content to stay on my shoulder. Then—

'Ward, Landon.' I blinked. Landon was on his way up to shake hands with Professor Rowan. Sure enough, I looked toward Clara again, and saw that she was one of the last three students. Matthias sat on her left, and a boy called Miles Zaha on her right. _That was kinda quick._ On stage, Landon shook hands with a broad smiling Professor Rowan, then shook again with Professor Garrett, who still had that _same fucking expression_ on his slimy face. Something about his really irritated me. Maybe it was just that he wasn't Professor Berlitz, who Landon and I both rather liked.

Landon picked up his ball. I knew what he was thinking—he wanted a dragon. Nobody had got a dragon yet, or even a potential dragon, like a swablu. Though, I couldn't bring anyone to mind that actually had started with a dragon, other than Cynthia herself, who received a gible (that was now generally considered one of, if not _the_ , strongest trained pokemon in the world, as a garchomp). Landon released his pokemon, and it wasn't a dragon – it was a riolu, which was really just as good. The riolu yipped in surprise, overawed, until Landon knelt down before it. You could almost see the instant bond between them materialise – Landon looked as if he'd fallen in love with it already, and when he picked it up and moved off to his seat, the riolu settled into his arms, completely as ease. _Lucky son of a_ —I was pretty annoyed. Riolu were fighting type, and its evolution gained steel typing too; doubly effective against my sneasel, and then resistant to both dark and ice. So Victoria had an elekid, and Landon had a riolu. At this rate, Matthias would get a fucking full tyranitar complete with a full set of Mega-stones and an entei as back up just incase he needed it.

Speaking of, Professor Rowan stepped up to the mic again. 'Ward, Matthias.'

Anxiously, I waited. At least if it was a dragon, ice was super-effective against it. I crossed my fingers. _Bidoof bidoof bidoof get a bidoof bidoof bidoof bidoof—_ he picked up his pokeball, sent out the pokemon inside, and— _bidoofbidoofbidoofbidoof—_ small, red and gray, two legs, sharp arms, shiny. Pawniard, go figure. Immediately, my sneasel started to hiss again.

'Yeah, good boy, good boy,' I told him absently. 'We have to smash those two.'

Clara's turn. Predictably, she looked horribly nervous all of a sudden. She shakily put her hand in Professor Rowan's, rather than shaking it, and didn't even get that far with Professor Flourney, who had to actually grab her hand. She drifted to the crate, gingerly picked up her pokeball, and, trembling slightly, released her new dratini. Oh, Cresselia. A dratini. The crowd was more than just rippling with that. A dragon, a pseudo-legendary. Dratini, then dragonair, then dragonite. One of the few, and I mean _few_ , who could go with a garchomp in an even battle. It was amazing. Clara was in a daze; amazed, overwhelmed, rhapsodic. Her dratini was small, very small, and clearly very young. It looked curiously at Clara, who gathered herself and scooped it up, speaking quietly to it as she moved to her seat.

After that, Miles Zaha's duskull seemed lackluster.

* * *

I released my sneasel on my bed. He glanced around curiously. It was eight at night, and the graduation after party was at nine. I'd got home from eating out with Landon, Clara, Victoria, and Matthias five minutes ago, and I wanted to get properly acquainted with me starter. For starters, I wanted to give him a name, so I could stop referring to him as _my sneasel_ , or something along those lines. 'Hi,' I said to him. His huge, gleaming eyes found me. 'I'm Hayden, your trainer.' I paused. 'I already said that. Well, anyway, I have a name, and you don't. I'm gonna give you one.' He blinked at me. I cleared my throat awkwardly. 'Okay, well, I guess I'll give you some suggestions, and you tell me which one you like best. Okay?' My new starter just curled up on the bed, big red eyes still locked on me.

'Okay, so how about… Sam?' the sneasel growled. I watched him carefully. 'Is that a no?' the Sneasel did nothing, so I took it as a no. 'Yeah, I didn't really like Sam, anyway. What about Charlie?' Another growl.

And so began a long suffering attempt to name my starter sneasel—except not, because we found one on like the fifth try after that. 'How about Luca?' After a moment, he purred, and one of his feathers twitched slightly. His eyes gave a lazy blink. 'Alright,' I said, grinning. 'Nice to meet you, Luca the sneasel. I'm Hayden, your trainer. Did I say that already?'

Luca yawned easily at me.


End file.
